If you are visiting Wesleyan University as a parent or prospective student, or if you are a current student or staff member, chances are you’ve come into contact with the notorious notion that Wesleyan is a quintessentially “politically correct” place. Similar institutions and spaces have garnered a like reputation, for fostering progressive communities that prioritize a mindset spanning a wide breadth of social matters. One such matter that some critics of “PC culture” might call the “PC poster-child” is the adjustment of personal language to fit this progressive mindset. I’m referring to the discourse around non-gender-specific pronouns in particular.

This isn’t a piece about non-gender-specific pronouns, because that’s not my lived experience. But for those who nevertheless recoil a little bit at the thought of an academic community like Wesleyan, which to some may seem to prioritize this language adjustment over the “discomfort” that is arguably essential for learning and growth, it is imperative to ruminate on the idea of “PC culture.” It’s important in general because it’s crucial to recognize the personal biases and context you bring to any situation. It’s important in this case because this is a piece about how shifting the language you use can really make a difference in thought processes and social interactions.

I want to focus on “I.” I think “I” is so interesting because if you ask me, upping its use in discourse produces a counterintuitive result. I used to think that you could tell how vain a person was if they used “I” quite frequently. Maybe in some cases this is still true, and it really depends on what comes after the “I,” but I think that on the whole, the frequent use of “I”—especially in an academic setting—indicates that a person is more in tune with the people and events surrounding them than someone who uses it less.

In sixth grade I remember getting points off on a project for using personal pronouns in the written portion. Education commonly disavows the use of personal pronouns like “I” or “you” in the academic setting, for reasons of professionalism. It makes sense—often the point of the academic environment and academic writing is to have done research and have facts (as well as other people’s respected opinions) backing up what you’re trying to say. But this stringent emphasis on favoring professionalism over personal experience and perspective can be harmful because it can be really isolating to not take a step back and question, “How does my experience affect or relate to my position in this situation?”

Again, what’s more intuitive is that using “I”—and as such, focusing on the self—would be the action of isolation. Nevertheless, the consideration of one’s own context and experience in relation their biases, attitudes, and opinions is key to recognizing and moving past what may separate you from someone else.

This is not to say that this self-evaluation is not isolating. Separating your individual experiences from everyone else who might be like-minded to you is obviously an isolating task. That is, after all, what’s so great about agreeing with people: not only do you have back-up, but it’s more likely you’ll feel confident in what you think if you’re not alone in thinking it. Removing yourself from other people in order to think critically about what it is about your life that has made you feel a certain way is daunting, because maybe it will make you feel wrong or misguided. Or, maybe you’ll feel like your “self” is little more than a collection of things that have happened to you.

While in some ways inserting your personal experiences and biases into a conversation might be disheartening, there is indubitably something about self-evaluation that is just as worthwhile and beneficial as finding comfort in agreeing with others. You will probably still find a reason for feeling the way you feel and thinking the way you think, and this time it won’t be based on others, but actually based on yourself. What’s more, being able to evaluate yourself, your ideas, and their origins will probably—hopefully—make it a lot easier to relate to how other people may (or may not) be able to do the same thing for themselves.

So for those who are so enamored with the idea that discomfort in academic discourse and environments (or any kind of environment) provides an avenue for growth that is stifled by so-called “PC culture,” I’d argue that there’s no reason why this discomfort shouldn’t be oriented towards the self first. One way to achieve this is to speak, and think, about yourself and your experiences more. Questioning the assumptions and norms that are a product of context and conditioning all throughout life on both a large, societal scale and a small, personal scale, is undoubtedly one of the most powerful things you can do to flourish and adapt anywhere, with anyone. At least, I think so.

Aibinder is a member of the class of 2018.